From Low To High
by EvenSong
Summary: Its about a commoner who is whisked off the streets of Corus because hey! her dad need's an heir. She loses the life and the love she had before. But can she find love in a different man? Or is it all the same in the end? Someone...please, give me a new t


Disclaimer: Nope, don't own any TP. Neither do you in fact. Don't we all wish we did though?  
  
*#*#*  
  
Laurel stared into the mirror, watching her own bored face as the maid swept up her hair into an intricate set of cascading curls.   
  
"Sit up straighter, Lady Laurelei," the maid instructed. Sighing, Laurel obeyed, rolling her eyes.   
  
She didn't used to be a Lady of Moonacre. She used to be an urchin on the streets, playing with fire to pass the time. Then her father had found her (of course that was after she had nearly burned down the inn he was at) and he had claimed her as his own.   
  
She was still getting used to the idea of being a Lady.   
  
"Mira, can't I just leave my hair down for once?" Laurel complained, hating the pins that pulled her hair.   
  
"No, Lady, you are entertaining guests with your father today, you must look presentable." Mira put the final touch on Laurel's hair and smiled. "Now for the face paint!"   
  
"No, Mira, please no!" Laurel whined piteously, her face contorting in an ugly expression of dislike.   
  
"Yes, Lady Laurelei, you must." Mira firmly tightened the bonds that kept Laurel in the chair and pulled her head back. "Close your eyes." She instructed firmly. Laurel opened them wider.   
  
Their struggle went on for quite some time, with Mira finally winning. Scowling, Laurel flounced down the stairs, taking them two at a time.   
  
"Why hello Laurelei." Her father smiled at her.   
  
"Hello Lord Stephen." She never called him father, only Lord Stephen.   
  
"Laurelei, I'd like you to meet Prince Roald of Conté." Lord Stephen took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her around.   
  
Laurel glared sullenly at the Prince, resenting his presence. "Hello Prince Roald." She didn't smile.  
  
"Hello Lady Laurelei." Roald replied with a smile in his voice. Laurel looked up in disbelief. Something about the way he said her name reminded her of her beloved companion from the streets of Corus.   
  
"How are you, your highness?" Laurelei said a bit more warmly. She noticed a resemblance to Rol in him that was downright uncanny.   
  
"Fine, thank you. How do you fare, milady?" Roald asked politely.   
  
"I am...well," she said cautiously. She heard a rustle of fabric behind her and remembered Lord Stephen.   
  
"Laurelei, my love, I must be off. I t was nice to see you, Prince Roald. I should hope that I get that honor again." Lord Stephen patted Laurel's should, bowed to the Prince, and ran off (ignoring Laurel's protests).   
  
They sat in awkward silence for quite some time, staring at anything but the other person. Both of them knew that they were being set up for a possible marriage. Both of them resented it.   
  
"You," Roald started, then hesitated when Laurel looked at him. He inhaled deeply and started again. "You remind me of someone, a girl, I knew once." He blurted in a rush. His face burned, and he knew he was not like himself.   
  
"What happened to her?" Asked Laurel, intrigued.   
  
"Laurelei," Roald said in a soft voice, but he was interrupted by Laurel.  
  
"No, please don't call me Laurelei. Call me Laurel." Laurel forced her lips into a smile. "Laurelei is not even my real name," She laughed bitterly, "It's what Lord Stephen has called me." She frowned and said, "I'm sorry I interrupted you, but go on."   
  
"Well, Laurel," Roald smiled softly, "I don't know what happened to my friend. One day she was there, and one day she wasn't." Roald sighed and rubbed his forehead.   
  
"Did you...love her?" Laurel asked tentatively.   
  
"I suppose so." Roald smiled wryly, "But what would I know of love? She was wonderful, though." Roald met her gaze with impossibly blue eyes. Laurel had heard, from the gutter gossip on the street, that King Jonathon had the same blue eyes.   
  
Laurel pressed on boldly. "Tell me about her." Then she hastily added, "If you like."   
  
Roald looked at her curiously. He decided that he had nothing to lose (oh she was so much like Lore!) and started to speak. "Well, I shall start out with what she looked like. She had the big, doe-like dark eyes, and a generous mouth that was always smiling. She loved to smile! She had this silky dark brown hair that I loved to run my fingers through when- uh..." Roald stopped, embarrassed. "I just loved to run my fingers through her hair."   
  
He looked up at Laurel and saw that she was watching him with an intensity that surprised him.   
  
"She- Lore- loved to laugh. She had a pretty laugh. Oh Mithros, I don't even know if she's dead or not!" Roald was unnerved by his unmanly show of emotion, and he hurriedly composed himself.   
  
Laurel was looking at him in an odd manner. "Roald, uh..." she trailed off, unsure of how to tell him what she was now sure of.   
  
"Yes?" Roald raised an eyebrow. Laurel sat there silently, her mind whirling. How could she possibly tell the Prince that she was Lore?  
  
"Your highness?" Someone called for Roald. "It is time to return to the palace."   
  
"Farewell, Lady Laurelei."   
  
"Farewell, Prince Roald."   
  
There were no subsequent meetings between them after that. Roald was consumed by his impending betrothal to the Yamani Princess. Laurel was devoted to perfecting her skills as a noble Lady, at her father's command.   
  
Secretly, on stolen nights, Laurel would create a little ball of fire in her hand and write down all the things that went on in her life. Roald was in the diary often, along with confessions of love for him.   
  
Roald spent his days as a squire training with his knight master, who gave him many bruises. When the healers at the palace tended to the other wounds he sustained, their gentle magic caressing his skin, he would think of Lore and dream that it was her hands touching him.  
  
Laurel was finally sent to court, a year after she had first met Roald, to test her courtly skills. She had given up protesting the elaborate hairstyles, and the fancy dresses. She had matured from a lanky girl of fifteen to a graceful young woman of sixteen.   
  
Laurel arrived at court in a flurry of wedding preparations. She remembered Roald, and Rol, and sighed. He was not hers anymore; he belonged to someone else. A princess. Something that she would never be.  
  
Happily, she stepped out of the carriage and into the familiar streets of Corus. She stretched, enjoying stretching her muscles out. Her dress had gotten twisted during the carriage ride (how she didn't know) so she carefully straightened it with an unladylike grimace.   
  
"My dear," Lord Stephen said to her, not bothering to disguise the disgust that he felt for his daughter. "Please, do not act so," he shuddered, "common."   
  
"Lord Stephen," Laurel said with a cold smile, "I am sorry to have offended you with my doings. It was how I was raised, and if you hadn't abandoned me, I wouldn't be doing this now." They glared at one another, and finally Lord Stephen stalked up the steps to the palace, leaving Laurel standing by herself.   
  
"Hello, are you Lady Laurelei?" A man in armor jogged up to her.   
  
"No, I am Lady Laurel." She said pointedly.   
  
"Oh," the man looked confused, and then said, "Do you know where I could find her?"   
  
"No, I do not." Laurel said curtly, starting to climb the steps.   
  
"Alright then," the man said. Laurel heard him run off, muttering, "Jolly good then."   
  
She walked up the last set of steps, wondering where she would go after this. She walked inside the palace and set out to explore. Within the hour, she was completely lost.   
  
"Laurel!" She heard a voice behind her call out. She turned around and saw Roald.   
  
"Hello Prince Roald." Laurel said formally, not trusting herself not to blurt out that she loved him.   
  
"How have you been, Lore, ah Laurel?" Roald hastily corrected himself, cursing himself for calling her Lore. Lore was dead (but not forgotten), in his mind.   
  
"I have been well," she said softly, her voice trembling. "And yourself?"   
  
"Rushed," he sighed. "What with the wedding and all..."   
  
Laurel's face set into a mask of cool indifference. "I hope you are happy."   
  
"Oh yes, I am!" Roald said exuberantly, a smiled lighting up his face. "She's great, you would like her."   
  
"I'm sure." Roald was puzzled by her coldness. Had she really changed all that much in one year? "Oh," Laurel added, "Rol, if you want to call me Lore, you may. You called me that once, about a year ago." Laurel turned and started to walk away from Roald, hating herself.   
  
Roald stood there stunned at what he had just found out. As he watched Laurel walk away, his mind spurred him into action. "Lore, wait!" He ran quickly to catch up to her.   
  
Laurel turned around, smiling faintly. "Yes?" Abruptly, she was in Roald's arms, and his face was close to hers...their lips met in a tender kiss, and Laurel melted into him.   
  
"I love you," Roald whispered to her. Laurel just smiled contentedly and kissed him again.   
  
In the corner of her mind reserved for rational thought, Laurel heard a faint sizzling sound. ON her peripheral vision, she could see a tall lady standing there watching them.   
  
"Hello Laurel, Roald." They broke apart when the woman spoke. When he saw the woman, Roald's eyes widened and he fell to the floor, kneeling in front of the Lady.  
  
"Who are you?" Laurel asked boldly.  
  
"She's the Goddess, the Lady!" Roald said reverently, pulling Laurel down beside him.   
  
The Lady laughed. "Children, stand up." They stood slowly, Roald helping Laurel untangle herself from her dress. "You have created a problem, you see. Roald, you have fallen very much in love with Laurel here." Laurel smiled softly, and Roald looked uncomfortable. "Yet you have a duty to your country to marry your Yamani Princess. Now you see, people would notice if Roald disappeared. You cannot elope. I offer a solution."   
  
"What?" Roald asked. He was still slightly stunned from having the Goddess appear while he was kissing Laurel.  
  
"I make a replacement for you. You choose someone who understands the Prince's duty and position, and I will make him look, speak and act like you. Would you like this option?"   
  
"Uh...It sounds fine, I suppose." Roald shrugged. Laurel found his hand with hers and squeezed softly. He smiled down at her.   
  
"What about me?" Laurel asked softly. "How will I disappear?"   
  
The Lady smiled at her, and Laurel was awed. "You shall leave a note for your father, who won't particularly mind, once I show him the other few children that he sired on hapless tavern wenches." The Goddess laughed at Laurel's smug expression.   
  
"I knew he was no good." Laurel proclaimed self-righteously.   
  
"Which servant, body guard whoever would you like me to replace with your likeness?" The Goddess asked Roald.   
  
"Aver," Roald replied instantly. "He has been my friend since we were young, and he knows all the princely duties that I complained to him. Please, he deserves to be the Prince." Roald smiled happily when the Goddess nodded.  
  
"Now, my children, go and pack a few belongings, and come to the stables when it is dark."   
  
Roald led Laurel out of the maze of passageways and back into the main palace. They parted ways, and Laurel stood in the main hall, admiring the tapestries.   
  
Lord Stephen stopped her right away.   
  
"Laurelei! Get over here now! Where have you been?" He fumed.   
  
"I was exploring the palace, Lord Stephen," Laurel responded coldly. She set her face into a charming smile.   
  
"Come to your room at once. All of your stuff has been there. There are many people waiting to meet you!" Lord Stephen grabbed her wrist and easily pulled the slender Laurel through the palace.   
  
When Laurel got to her rooms, she gasped. She had just walked into a sea of pink. "No way." Laurel said in disbelief. "Why is everything pink?" She asked in disgust.   
  
"Because your favorite color is now pink." Lord Stephen slammed the door shut and walked closer to her. "Do you know how many people saw you walking through the palace alone? Do you know what a bad impression that makes on them of me?"   
  
"Oh I'm just so sad at having sullied your reputation," Laurel said scathingly. "Maybe if you hadn't just left me there, no one would have had to see me all by my lonesome. Isn't that right?" Laurel watched in satisfaction as Lord Stephen flushed with rage.   
  
"You-little-wench!" He roared at her, the words reverberating around the room. Suddenly, Lord Stephen seemed to tower above her, and she shrank back in fear.   
  
Stephen watched his daughter's face fill with terror as he felt the rage suffuse his mind. Nobody got away with insulting him as many time as she had. Now she would pay! He bore down on her, intent on causing her pain.   
  
Laurel began to scream; she was helpless and she knew it. When her father began to hit her, she tried to escape. Finally, she did.   
  
Squirming out from underneath of him, she ran to the door and struggled to open it. She gave it a firm jerk and it opened. She turned around and quickly shut the door in her father's face, her heart pounding.   
  
In tears, she ran to the stables. The horses were something that she knew. She trusted the horses not to yell at her and hit her. They would protect her until nightfall.   
  
Sir Alanna saw the girl running across the yard toward the stables, and knew somehow that it was Lord Stephen's daughter. She sighed and figured that she would have to go knock some sense into the temperamental noble.   
  
Laurel clambered into the stall of a strawberry roan. The horse looked disagreeable, and she hoped that she wouldn't be discovered. The nameplate on the stall said Peachblossom.   
  
Laurel waited in Peachblossom's stall until sundown, when she heard footsteps approaching the stable.   
  
"Roald?" She called out hesitantly.   
  
"Who's there?" A rough voice asked.   
  
Laurel scrunched down into the farthest, darkest corner of the stall and hoped that the other person wouldn't notice her.   
  
"Eh, musta been the wind." She heard the man mutter. Then: "Prince Roald! Your Highness, what are you doing here?"   
  
"Uh, checking on Blaze." Roald made up a lame excuse. "Could I have some private time with him?"   
  
"Sure, sure. Whate'er your highness wants." One pair of footsteps retreated into the night.   
  
Laurel crept out of the stall, hesitating to show herself. "Hello Roald," she called softly.   
  
"Laurel!" Roald rushed over to her and put his arms around her. "What happened to you?"   
  
"Lord Stephen, he-he-he hit me." Laurel said bitterly, feeling a lump in the back of her throat.   
  
"Oh, Laurel." Roald kissed her gently and rocked her back and forth.   
  
"My children, the time awaits you." The Lady appeared before them, holding the reins of two splendid horses.   
  
They were a matched pair of blood bays, and impressive creatures in their own right.   
  
"Ride these two horses out of the east gate. Take the Great Road East to Galla. You will be safe there. Fly, my children, fly." The Lady stood before them and helped Laurel mount.   
  
Trotting out of the stables, they headed to the east, and toward their new life together, side-by-side.   
  
One Month Later  
  
~Delton, Galla~  
  
Laurel sighed as she watched the sun set over the River Dell. Roald was sitting next to her, watching her. Laughing, she pushed him over. Quickly they kissed once, then twice, and then many more times, each kiss becoming longer and more passionate.   
  
They had been married for a day, and they were very happy together. Everyone in Delton could see that. They had settled in Delton, the first town across the Gallan border. The town was full of friendly people, all of them eager to help the happy young couple start out. They had helped to build a house and a barn.   
  
The mage in the town was teaching Laurel about her fire-magic. It was a small gift, but useful in its own right. Roald had taken up the job of training the villagers to defend themselves from the Scanran bandits that often raided the little hamlet.   
  
They had found a place in the little town, a little spot to live fairly happily ever after.   
  
A/N: Although i am a Joren fan all the way, i didn't think that Joren would fit this role too well. Tell me what you think of it...maybe i'll write more along this line. i dunno. All depends on you, reviewers...  
  
(hint hint)   
  
:o)  
  
EvenSong 


End file.
